


Rescue

by alessandralee



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Guns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:55:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1199961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alessandralee/pseuds/alessandralee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma gets separated from the team during a mission, and Grant goes back to get her. Worrying ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rescue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ferggirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferggirl/gifts).



Every little thing made Jemma jumpy. She’d thought she heard a sniper rustling the tree branches above her, but it was only a couple of birds. She’s thought she heard a jaguar padding towards her, ready to tear her throat out, but it had only been a capybara, which took off the moment it laid eyes on her. She’d thought she heard footsteps, but… no, those were definitely footsteps. They were accompanied by human voices, too quiet for her to understand what they were saying.

She’d been crouched within the brush for hours. A surprise firefight had separated her from the rest of the team. She hoped they were all alright and she hoped they were coming back for her. She’d had enough time, sitting here in silence, to picture all the ways they could be dead, leaving stranded until Ian Quinn’s personal army eventually found her.

She shakes her head to force the gruesome images out of her head and forced herself to focus on the voiced coming towards her. It sounds like they’re speaking Spanish. Quinn’s people had spoken Spanish.

She bounces up and down a bit, trying to stretch out her cramped legs without giving away her location. The voices continue towards her and Jemma wishes her knowledge of Spanish went beyond “¿Donde está el baño?” She grabs the gun she’d been carrying off the ground and flicks off the safety. This morning she’d protested being handed a gun with bullets rather than dendrotoxin, but by now she’s glad to be carrying it. She doesn’t want these men to wake up and keep coming after her.

Their voices are nearly on top of her now, and she can see two pairs of boots through the scrub. Taking a deep breath the steel herself, she leaps out of her hiding spot, ignoring the way her legs protest the sudden movement, and shoots blindly in the direction of the boots.

Fortunately, she has terrible aim.

“Jemma,” a voice cries out with relief. It’s deep and familiar.

Grant Ward. He’s with a man she’s never seen before, dressed in camouflage and holding one of Fitz’s trackers. But mostly she’s just focuses on Ward.

She’s already fired two shots by the time she realizes what she’s seeing, but they both go wide. Still, her heart stops for a moment and she looks both men up and down to make sure she did no damage. Then she goes limp with relief, the gun falling from her hands and her knees giving out beneath her. Ward is on his way towards her before she hits the ground.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Are you hurt?”

She can only manage a weak nod. She’s been running fear-induced adrenalin for a while now, and with that fear gone she can barely keep her eyes open.

“Which one? Okay or hurt?” He’s running his hands along her bod, gently probing for injuries before she can even respond. She’s pictured this scene in her mind before, granted with much less trauma on her part. She’s too exhausted to really enjoy it.

“Okay,” he voice is quiet and hoarse.

“Good, then it’s time to get back to the base,” her tired brain needs a moment to puzzle out what base he’s referring to, but the presence of his camouflaged colleague eventually clues her in. They must have teamed up with the Ecuadorian military.

One of Grant’s arms slides under her knees, the one cradling her back as he gently lifts her.

“I can walk,” she protests weakly, “just give me a moment to stretch my legs.”

He ignores her requests, and starts following the trail their army escort cuts out for them.

“Jemma, it’s fine. We’re less than a mile from the jeep. You’re exhausted. Just let me carry you.”

His arms are strong and it’s comforting to have him so close after she’s spent so much time worrying. So she tucks her head against his chest and focuses on her view of his shoulder and the trees surrounding them.

“If everyone else safe? The team?” it doesn’t take her long to ask.

“Everyone is fine,” he reassures her. “Somes scrapes and bruises, and Skye did a number on her hand punching on of Quinn’s men in the face. She refuses to get it looked at until she knew Fitz had located your tracker signal.”

Her morbid thoughts now disproven, Jemma begins in doze off in Grant’s arms, the steady bounce of his footsteps lulling her into sleep.

When she wakes up, she’s in the back seat of the jeep Ward mentioned earlier, her head resting in his lap. He hasn’t notices that she’s awake and he’s staring out the window, gun at the ready, in case anyone tries to surprise them.

She stirs a little, trying to get more comfortable in the cramped space. She might be small, but most vehicles just aren’t made to have adults lay across the backs of them.

Instinctively, Ward shifts closer to the window to give her more space. He briefly glances away from the window to check on her and let her know they’re almost to the base.

“We radioed ahead to let everyone know you’re safe. There was some girlish shrieking on the other end, which I assume was Skye.” He adds as an afterthought “Could’ve been May, though.”

She’s still tired, but she’s slept enough that she manages a short chuckle at his joke.

“Fitz, more likely.”

He smiles at that.

She readjusts herself, leaning into the warmth his body provides and closing her eyes. She doesn’t fall back asleep, but it’s feels good to rest her eyes.

_________________

When they arrive at the army base, Grant tries to once again carry her. She’s well rested enough to refuse this and makes a point of walking as quickly as possible to keep him from worrying.

She’s rushed into a hospital room and given a paper gown to change into. Ward keeps guard at the door until she says she’s decent, and then he follows the doctor in. The doctor gives her a quick once over before pronouncing her uninjured and just in need of more rest and the disinfection of some of her own cuts.

Apparently, this is not thorough enough for Ward, who beings arguing with the doctor in rapid Spanish. The nurse who enters the room watches in amusement and Jemma watches in annoyance. Eventually, she has to cut in on the conversation.

“Ward, I am fine. I told you that. And in case you’ve forgotten, I’m a doctor.”

“You’re not a medical doctor. You only have PhDs.”

Her jaw nearly hits the floor.

“First of all, you don’t seem to mind my only having two PhDs when you need someone to stitch up your stab wounds and bullet holes. And second of all, you are not a doctor of any kind. And since both the Medical Doctor and I say that I’m fine, you are going to drop the subject. Now leave the room so that I can have these wounds tended to,” she gestures towards the nurse, whose look of amusement has now increased to near laughter at her outburst. “And go find the rest of the team. I’d like to know what’s happening with Skye’s hand.”

Ward leaves, but not before asking her if she’s certain she doesn’t want to have x-rays taken.

She doesn’t dignify that with an answer.

When the nurse is done tending to her, she’s told to lie down and try to get some rests. She obeys on the first order, but refuses to sleep until she’s seen the rest of her team.

She’s quickly joined by a visibly relieved Skye, who immediately gives Jemma a huge hug, and a perturbed looking Fitz, who hangs off to the side.

Before either of them can speak, Jemma inquires as to Fitz’s obvious mood.

“Ward,” is his one word response. Fortunately, Skye elaborates.

“Ward might have gone off the rails at Fitz when he found at you were missing. He also might have done with in front of some army higher ups and SHIELD officials.”

Fitz looks even angrier.

“Fucking asshole,” is all he says.

Jemma is definitely surprised by news of Ward’s outburst. She can’t believe he’d to that to her friend, to his friend. But a small part of her is flattered that Ward was so bothered by her absence.

“Don’t worry. I’ll talk to him about it. It wasn’t your fault. Last I checked, you weren’t a private militia hell-bent on taking our entire team out.”

And she will talk to Grant. That was absolutely uncalled for, and he deserves to be yelled at for that, although she imagines Coulson has already berated him for it. Also, she needs to find out what elicited such a strong reaction. It seemed like a bit much, even for Ward.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the MaoS Hiatus Hug and inspired by some of Ferggirl's commentary on the episode T.R.A.C.K.S.


End file.
